


The Circumstances of Richie Tozier

by kobayashi_rin



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: AU - No Pennywise, Gen, Minor Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, i dont know how to tag so there is that, i only watched the remake and read like 10 pages of the book, so the characters are based off my image of the '89 kids, this is my first time posting on this site i have no clue how this works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kobayashi_rin/pseuds/kobayashi_rin
Summary: It's Christmas day when Richie Tozier is found.The Losers' Club looks back as they grieve.





	1. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One night I just imagined a dead Richie Tozier and the story unfolded just like this.
> 
> I had my friend read this, her only comment was "How could you write this"
> 
> Honestly? I just like to see my favorites suffer.

When a sweet smell hits his nose, Bill Denbrough slowly wakes up.

He does not open his eyes just yet, no. First he wants to take everything in with his senses.

The sweet smell of the freshly baked cookies his mother must have made that is carrying through the house. The familiar Christmas carols that softly sound through the walls of the house, probably played by his father using the recently bought audio player. The cool draft that is sneaking through the gaps of his window, making the boy snuggle even deeper into the warm comfort of his blanket.

Just five more minutes, the boy thought.  
  
The boy was about to drift back into sleep, he was slowly losing consciousness, when the door to his room was suddenly opened without any care at all.  It banged pretty hard against the closet right next to it, making Bill cringe.

“Billy!” The familiar voice of his beloved younger brother shouted. “Wake up! It’s noon already!”  
  
Bill stuck his head out of his blanket and cracked an eye open, taking a glance at the alarm clock on his bed stand.  
  
7:29 AM

“It’s not even 8 yet...” Bill grumbled as he attempted to pull the cover back over his head.  
  
“Billy, no!” Georgie said as he tried to pull the blanket out of his brother’s grasp. “Wake up! You are going to miss the whole day!”  
  
“Please, Georgie.” Bill sighed. “Just let me sleep some more.”  
  
“But it’s Christmas!”

Bill sighed even louder.

Christmas.

He loved it.

He really did.

Every year on Christmas his mother would wake up in the morning and bake cookies in the morning while his father would play Christmas carols as he read the newspapers.  
By the time it’s 8am Bill and Georgie would wake up and go downstairs together to eat breakfast with their parents. Afterwards they would get to open the presents that are laid out under the beautifully decorated tree, wrapped up in beautiful shiny paper.  
To Bill, it wasn’t even about the presents itself. His parents could have just given him a new box of crayons, he wouldn’t have cared. The feeling of receiving something and the excitement as he unwrapped the presents were enough to him. He was grateful to get anything at all.  
They would take a stroll through the town as a family then and by the time they decided it’s too cold to be out, the Denbrough family would rush back home into the warmth of their home to snuggle up on the couch together.  
  
Well, Bill, Georgie and their mother would.  
His father would take place on the arm chair right next to the couch.  
  
When it’s noon, their mother would hurry to the kitchen to prepare a quick meal for lunch while the rest of the family keeps to the living room. On times, one of them would offer to help but they would just be ushered out again.  
‘It is much quicker that way.’ Bill’s mother would say every time.  
Bill thinks he should be offended but he does agree with her. Bill is good with his hands but kitchen work is still beyond him.  
  
Once Bill’s mother was done, the Denbrough family would talk over lunch, wondering what to do afterwards and every year they would agree to watch one more Christmas movie before they get ready for dinner at his aunt’s house, right outside Derry. It’s barely an hour drive.  
There Bill and Georgie would spend time with their cousins, dreading it all.  
He doesn’t hate his cousins. He really doesn’t but every time he has to meet them, he finds himself counting down every second until he can finally leave for home.  
  
Family functions are terrible, Bill thinks.  
  
“I don’t like them!” Georgie would whisper into Bill’s ear in the car. Bill would just give him an encouraging smile but he couldn’t agree more.  
He could think of better ways to spend his time but while he is suffering through an awkward dinner, he just thinks about the tale he will tell Georgie before bed.

In earlier days Bill’s stutter was far more terrible than it is nowadays.  
  
‘Speech therapy be blessed.’ Bill thinks.  
  
Even though it used to take him so long to finish a story, Georgie would still look up at him, a shine in his eyes as if he was speaking the words of the lord himself. Bill found it ridiculous.  
  
‘How could Georgie find this exciting?’ He wondered every time.  
  
But Georgie’s soft smile as he listened attentively encouraged him and every passing year he chose to read Georgie a longer story.  
Georgie has already grown far too much to still be hearing bedtime stories, Bill believes but Bill reads to him anyways. And it’s not like Georgie is protesting.

And once Georgie has fallen asleep listening to Bill’s soothing voice, Bill would tuck his younger brother in properly before heading off to bed, ending yet another wonderful Christmas.

Today was different though.

Bill loved Christmas. He did.

But when Bill Denbrough woke up that day, he had an incredibly bad feeling.

Something in him told him, that this Christmas will not be like any other.

And when he heard sirens wailing in the distance, he just knew that something awful must have happened.

* * *

It was 7:31am when Ben Hanscom’s phone rang.

He was in the middle of brushing his teeth, still in his pajamas as he stood on the cold tile floor in front of his bathroom sink.

The moment he heard his phone go off, he sighed. Who in his right mind would call in these early hours on Christmas, he wondered. They sure would get an earful from him.  
  
He quickly washed out his mouth before padding over into his room. He checked the display.  
  
_Beverly_.

His grumpy mood immediately dissipated.  
  
He tapped the call button.  
  
“Hel-“  
  
“Ben.” Beverly’s voice interrupted.  
  
Ben halted.

Usually he would happy to hear Beverly’s voice. He would be thrilled.  
No matter how mundane the things Beverly talked about were, Ben Hanscom would be filled with a warm feeling inside that would make him smile from ear to ear.  
  
He was head over heels with Beverly.

But hearing just that one syllable she spoke, the way she said his name, his heart just dropped.

She didn’t just say his name. She was sobbing.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was almost a whisper.

“Can you come over?”

Ben didn’t even have to think about it. He would even drive to the other side of the country if Beverly asked him.  
  
“Where are you?”  
  
Another sob.  
  
“The Barrens.”

* * *

The moment Beverly hung up Ben immediately threw off his pajama and got dressed. He just grabbed anything that was lying around. He put on his shoes and immediately rushed out of the house, not even bothering to tie his beaten up sneakers.  
  
Ben grabbed onto his bike that lied on the front lawn and pedaled down the street as fast as he could.  
He didn’t know why Beverly called him. Why Beverly was crying.  
  
He didn’t know anything but he knew he had to be quick.

* * *

When Ben arrived at the Barrens, his heart sunk.

He spotted Beverly instantly. Her red flaming hair was hardly possible to miss.  
She was sitting on the ground, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking.  
  
Ben wanted to rush over to her, comfort her. He wanted to know what happened. He wanted to know if she was okay.  
  
But when he saw a pair of paramedics carry away a large black bag, he couldn’t keep his eyes away.  
The bag was the size of a person. Someone died here.  
Beverly must have found them.

He took a look at the whole scene enfolding in front of him.

Beverly was in tears, sitting on the rocky ground. The police men stood nearby, jotting their pens over their little notebooks, speaking in hushed tones. They would occasionally take a glance at Beverly and point at the spot right in front of her. The paramedics seemed to have a hard time, carrying the dead body over the rocky and slippery ground.  
Ben just hoped they wouldn’t tumble onto the ground. What must have transpired here was already tragic as is.

The main street was still a bit further away. That would take a while, Ben thought before he turned back to his red-haired friend.

“Beverly” He said.  
  
Beverly’s head shot up. Ben’s heart broke at her sight.  
Her whole face was red from the cold and the crying. Her eyes were swollen.  
She was a mess.

“What happened?” He walked over to her side and hugged her, holding her close. She did not return the embrace. She just kept shaking and crying.  
  
“It’s-“ She sobbed. “It’s… it’s Richie.”  
  
 “Richie?” Ben absentmindedly patted her back as he held Beverly. She cried even harder.

It was then that he came to the realization. His eyes widened as his arms came to a halt.  
He swung his head back to the paramedics that still carried the lifeless body over the slippery, rocky ground.  
  
“No.” He breathed. “No way.”

* * *

When Beverly Marsh opened her eyes that morning, the sun hasn’t even risen yet.  
She took a look at the analog alarm clock that stood on her nightstand.  
It wasn’t even 6am yet.

She shrugged and opened the window that was right next to her bed. A cold draft hit her in the face, making her shiver.

The red-haired girl pulled the blanket over her shoulders as she leaned outside, taking a look at the street.  
It was still dark and the street lights were still on. No one was outside.  
Besides the wind and an occasional meow of the neighbor’s cat there was no sound. Just silence.

When Beverly was still a child the darkness scared her. To the young girl, it seemed eerie.  
As if something was hiding beneath the dark shadows. As if something was out there to get her.  
  
But as she grew older, she realized there were bigger things to fear.  
Thinking of her family made her laugh about how she thought a monster lurking in the shadows would be terrifying. She was so naïve back then.  
  
The girl took a glance at the calendar that hung above her desk.

It was Christmas day.  
  
Her father wouldn’t be up before it was noon, she guessed.  
  
She could sneak out, take a stroll. Maybe this time she would not return.  
She laughed.

Beverly always thought of leaving this behind.  
Her father. This little apartment. The awful school she went to where you either go with the flow or feel the brunt of being different with every fiber of your body. The town where everyone spoke of goodness while looking the other way when a child that wasn’t to their liking was pushed around. Hurt. Terrorized. Abused.

Beverly Marsh wanted to run away from Derry several times. But she didn’t.  
  
Whenever she couldn’t hold in her anger, her sadness, her desperation, she would lock herself in her room and throw all her belongings into the small bag her parents bought her when she was sent to her aunt in Portland to spend her summer there. She would randomly pick clothes out of her closet and a few essentials. She would empty the jar that was hidden in the far corner under her bed and stash the bills and coins she saved there in her pockets. And before she would step out through the window, she would turn back one more time before her glance would fall onto a framed picture on her desk.

A picture of her and her dearest friends. The Losers’ Club.

She would remember the days where the Losers would ride their bikes to the quarry, challenging each other on who would arrive first while they sweat buckets under the scorching summer heat.  
She would remember every single jump she took from the cliff ahead of the boys just to taunt them for being cowards before Richie would try to dunk her head in the water. She would remember the many days they shared a table at lunch and just enjoyed talking about mundane things.

Before she knew it she had dropped her bag to the floor.  
She would drop back on her bed and take out her phone.  
She would call one of the Losers, maybe each of them, just to ask them about their day. Just to hear their voices. It made her feel at peace.  
  
And she ended up staying. Every single time.

* * *

Beverly pulled out her thickest pullover, an old woolen white pullover patterned with tiny red hearts, and an old pair of jeans. It was still early. She still had time so she dressed in leisure. She put on a pair of woolen striped sockets before she stuffed her feet into her favorite pair of shoes, a pair of shiny black combat boots.

The red-haired girl threw on her olive-colored down jacket that was carelessly thrown over her desk chair. Then she quietly climbed out of her window, stepping onto the fire escape stairs.  
She walked in quick but silent steps. She had time but she didn’t want to risk being seen by any nosy neighbors who seemed to only live for other people’s business. She had enough problems with her father as is.

It was freezing.  
Beverly shivered. Without any real aim, she kept wandering the softly lit streets. The further she walked the darker the paths became. But to Beverly it didn’t matter.  
She was no longer scared of the dark.

The dawn started breaking by the time she reached the woods by the Barrens. She stepped into the woods, careful to not let her jacket get caught by the branches.  
She walked over the ground, the sound of fallen dried-up leaves crunching under every step she took.  
A soft smile played on her lips.  
  
It was freezing but she loved the serenity of these walks.

After several minutes passed, she reached the Barrens. The redhead turned her head to look left and then right. She pondered which way to walk.  
Noticing the sewer entry further down the way north gave her the creeps.  
Beverly Marsh didn’t fear the dark, no.  
But those sewers below Derry had something ominous to them. To Beverly, they seemed downright nasty. And this wasn’t related to any of Eddie’s talks about gray water and all the germs and bacteria they contained.  
She turned to her left and started walking without a second thought.

As she kept strolling towards south, she noticed something in the distance. The sun had risen already but it was still not too bright out. She squinted, trying to make out the dark lump that lied in the water further down the road.  
When she got closer, she noticed that the lump had a mop of dark hair. It was a body.  
  
Beverly stopped in her tracks, gasping.  
She fumbled through her pockets, looking for her phone. When she finally found it she immediately tapped the emergency button, calling the ambulance to notify them of her finding.  
The lady that took the call told her that she should stay calm. That they will send a car.  
Beverly nodded, even though the woman on the phone wouldn’t be able to see it.  
The woman hung up.

The red-haired girl glanced back at the body. She wanted to step closer. She wanted to help.  
But her legs were rooted to the ground. She couldn’t move closer.  
It was as if her body seemed to know something that her mind hasn’t caught up on yet.

Eventually, she shook that feeling off, or rather tried to ignore it, and slowly walked over.  
The ominous feeling that she had whenever she glanced at the opening to the sewers crept over her again. It made her feel icky.  It gave her the chills.  
She felt as if she was a child again, facing the darkness that washed over her room whenever the sun set.  
  
Beverly took one more step, the eyes still set on the seemingly lifeless body.  
She drew in a breath sharply, her eyes widening.  
“No,” she breathed. Her legs gave out and she fell back onto the wet, rocky ground.  
“No, no, no, no” She couldn’t look away. Her eyes were glued onto the body in front of her.

Tears filled her eyes, thick droplets rolling down her cheeks, reddened from the cold air.

It was 7:24am when Beverly Marsh found Richie Tozier dead.


	2. Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is I am sorry to Stanley Uris.

Stanley Uris spent this Christmas day in his room, looking through the picture book Bill gave to him earlier that week.  
  
“I-It’s not a Christmas p-present, I swear,” he said. Stan doubted it. Bill was a bad liar.  
  
It’s been a few years since Bill began speech therapy. And it has certainly shown positive results as the boy’s stutter is almost completely gone. It hardly surfaced anymore. It would only return during moments of agitation or nervousness.  
  
And when Bill Denbrough lied, then boy, was he nervous. Everyone could tell when the boy lied. Even Bill himself knew that everyone could tell.  
But he lied anyways. Because he was Bill.

You just don’t say no to Bill.  
  
So Stan ended up taking the gift.

The book Bill gifted him was leather-bound, a golden stork sewn into the binding. The binding looked handmade. The book was filled with pictures of several types of birds in Australia. There wasn’t much written in it. It was mostly filled with photographs. But they were so beautiful, Stan didn’t mind.

Stan ran his index over the smooth, glossy page. He smiled.

Stanley Uris did not celebrate Christmas.  
But he guessed he should give Big Bill something in return. Maybe a new set of drawing pencils.

It was late evening when someone knocked on his door. When Stan took a glance outside the window, the sky was dyed in a deep orange. He turned to the door that slowly opened. He quickly sat up, brushing down the creases in his shirt.  
It was his mother.  
  
“Stanley,” She said, her voice quiet. She looked slightly distraught.  
  
“What’s wrong, mom?” She smiled at him sadly. Stan held his breath as she took a seat beside him, grasping his hand. Her hand was so warm.  
  
“It’s Richie.”  
  
“Richie?” Stan asked, meekly. His heart felt heavy. “What’s wrong with Richie?”

The grasp on his hand got tighter. He almost winced in pain.  
  
“I just received a call.” She said. “Today morning, Richie was found at the Barrens.”  
  
Her tone softened, her voice lowered. What came out next was barely a whisper. Stan almost missed it.  
  
“He is dead, dear.”

Stan felt his body go cold. He wasn’t sure if he heard right.  
Dead?

* * *

Richie Tozier was a walking incident.  
No matter where the bespectacled boy went, havoc was bound to follow.  
  
Richie was not clumsy by any means. He was not a magnet for misfortune either.  
He was just… eccentric.  
  
Richie Tozier was not an avid reader. Stan wasn’t even sure whether the boy has ever read a complete book in his life. Stan doubted that to be honest.  
The loudmouth hasn’t shown any interest in science either. He didn’t care how the world worked. He didn’t bother about exploring the secrets of the universe like Ben or Mike did.  
He didn’t see the things like Bill did either. He didn’t bother looking for the details, thinking about how to describe them to others or visualize them in the form of pictures.  
  
Stan wasn’t sure if Richie had a particular interest to begin with. He just seemed to… live.  
On times it seemed like his best friend was just going with the flow. That he was just rolling with anything that was thrown his way.  
On other times though, Richie seemed to be swimming against the tide. He would downright fight the idea of being like ‘common people’ as he liked to say.  
  
Richie Tozier did not give much thought to the world around him. But he was certainly of a bright mind.  
  
He aced every test at school. He was a straight A student. There has even been talk that Richie might even have a shot at valedictorian this year if he kept it up with his grades.  
  
One time Stan was asked if Richie was actually just faking his carefree attitude. He was asked if Richie secretly studied like a madman at home to keep his grades but acted the fool just for fun. Stan would snicker at that.  
  
He had known Richie since they were toddlers. They were basically grown at the hip, like Beverly would like to say. At this point it wasn’t even about whether they liked each other all that much or not. They are just so used to have the other around they wouldn’t know how to function without the other. They have spent over a decade by the side of the other.  
So Stanley Uris knew for certain that Richie would never take a seat at his desk and open a book for something as mundane as school.  
  
The only time Richie would open a book was to prove a point, maybe.  
  
Like the time earlier that year when he argued with Eddie.  
Unfortunately, Stanley wasn’t there to see that quarrel for himself as he was sick with a summer cold. He wasn’t sure what exactly happened, he only heard about it from Beverly when he returned to school. Apparently, it all started when Richie questioned why Eddie would consider a vegan diet since ‘cheese is a present of God’ and ‘why would anyone purposely forego that present?’ and that 'it would be blasphemy.' Eddie proceeded to tell Richie that cheese contains an enzyme that is won out of the stomachs of calves and he did not want any part in the murder of newly born calves. Shocked, Richie called Eddie a liar and stormed off.  
The next day though Richie declared he wouldn’t touch cheese ever again because of ‘them poor baby cows’.  
  
That promise was forgotten just a few hours later when he devoured two cheeseburgers after school.  
‘I am a weak human being.’ Richie sighed, his mouth still full. Eddie just shook his head at his friend.  
  
Stan believed that Richie could have been a genius of sorts. The boy received straight As without trouble. All he needed to do was pay attention to the teacher’s lessons, to his classmate’s insights. Sometimes he would take a look at work sheets. And if he was really bored he would even skim through the text books.  
  
Richie Tozier could have been a genius.  
If he just wasn’t Richie Tozier, first and foremost.

Rather than using his brilliance for good, Richie was more likely to come up with moronic ideas that just made you question his sanity. Even more so, when he acted up on them.  
  
Stan still vividly remembers that one rainy day earlier that summer. They were 16 at that time. They were old enough to know better. That didn’t stop Richie though. It never did.  
  
It was afternoon when Richie Tozier came over to his house and rang the doorbell. Stan spent the whole day inside and read a book. Occasionally, he would stare out of the window, looking at the street outside. The rain was heavy, the clouds darkened the sky. It was a glum day.

Stan couldn’t find himself reading his book any longer as the room was far too dim for the afternoon. He sighed as he went back to look outside his window. Maybe that could entertain him.  
  
The rain didn’t seem to have any end. The droplets just wouldn’t let up. They kept falling and falling. Stan wouldn’t have been surprised if there was suddenly a river replacing what was the street he lived in, that’s how strong he perceived the rain. He followed the flow of the water with his eyes, saw it running down the drains right across the street. He faintly remembered a conversation with Beverly that occurred just a few days before at the Barrens.  
  
Like any other day they have spent their time after school there. None of the Losers were in a rush to go home. It didn’t matter to any of them that all they usually did was sit around on some rocks as they talked about their classes, their teacher or maybe their classmates. There were also times where they didn’t know what to say at all so they filled the silence by just saying anything, even if it was utter non-sense.  
  
But there were also times when none of them said anything at all. Not even Richie. They would just sit around each other, watching the grass swaying in the wind. And none of them would mind.  
Because as long as they were with each other, they felt at peace.  
  
On that day Beverly seemed off though. She was unusually quiet. The others could tell that this wasn’t like those comfortable moments of serenity.

‘Beverly’ Bill said. ‘Are you a-alright?’  
  
Beverly didn’t answer. The redhead didn’t even look his way.  
  
‘Bev’ Richie who sat beside her grasped her upper arm and shook her lightly. ‘You with us?’

That seemed to get her attention. She turned to the boy in confusion. ‘What?’  
  
‘You were like totally gone.’ Richie said, pulling his hand off her. ‘What’s wrong?’  
  
She was silent again. She looked right past him. Stan followed her gaze. The sewers.

‘Do you guys also get this creepy feeling when you look at the sewers?’ She asked, her voice soft.  
  
‘Totally.’ Eddie replied. ‘I mean, it’s full of gray water. That’s so fucking nasty.’  
  
‘Not as nasty as your mom’s underwear.’ Richie cut in besides him, smirking. Eddie shoved him, telling him to shut it. Richie chuckled.  
  
‘That’s not it.’ The red-haired girl said, ignoring them. ‘It’s more than that. As if something was lurking in there. Something sinister.’  
  
‘Like a m-m-monster?’ Bill inquired. He looked up at her, frowning.  
  
‘Yeah. No. Maybe.’ She was lost in her thoughts for a moment before she shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I think I am just imagining it.’  
  
She smiled at the others. ‘Nevermind, guys. I think I am just being stupid.’

* * *

Stan didn’t get it. He played around the Barrens his whole life and never felt that way. Well, the sewers did gross him out though. The sewers were where all the pee and shit in Derry would go to after all. But he never got the feeling as if there was something in there akin to a monster. Monsters weren’t a thing anyways, Stan thought.

So when he looked at the stormdrains right across the street he just shrugged his shoulder. Maybe Beverly was really just being a bit silly there. Monsters? In Derry, the most boring town in the whole universe? Stan doubted it.

He kept watching the street. No one was out that day. There weren’t even cars driving past his house. He sighed for the umpteenth time that day. He was bored out of his skull. That’s why he felt such a relief when he saw a familiar mop of dark brown hair walking down the street.  
  
He got up immediately and walked down the stairs to the door. The moment he reached it, the doorbell rang. Stan opened the door, surprising one Richie Tozier.  
  
‘Whoa, don’t scare me like that.’ He said, adjusting the glasses that slid down his nose.  
  
‘What do you want?’ Stan asked, sounding slightly annoyed. The boy was clearly delighted at the sight of Richie but he would never admit to it. Not that the bespectacled boy needed to be told that. They knew each other good enough to be able to read the other like an open book. It was just how it was between them. Stan would treat him with coldness and Richie would eat it right up. It was like the carrot and the stick. Just that Stan gave Richie the stick far more often than not.

‘Stan! The man!’ Richie exclaimed. ‘Not even greeting your dear friend?’ He didn’t step inside. He just waited in front of the door. He was clearly not here to visit Stan. That disappointed the curly-haired boy.  
  
‘What do you want, Richie?’ Richie just grinned from ear to ear.  
  
‘You’ve got a sled that I could borrow?’

* * *

‘Richie, this is by far the dumbest idea you have ever had.’  
  
When Richie Tozier asked Stan for a sled, he expected anything but this. They stood at the top of a sand hill in the middle of a forest. It was still raining, the thick droplets colliding with the surface of the trees surrounding them, their branches, their leaves. The rain fall was still heavy, the sound noisy. The boys had to raise their voices to be able to even hear each other.  
  
Stan looked down the hill. It was muddy. And was that a river at the bottom?

‘I don’t know what you mean, Stanley.’ Richie shouted. ‘This is by far the most brilliant idea I have ever had. Imagine the odes that will be dedicated to me for I am the bravest man of all for attempting this.’  
  
Stanley looked his best friend dead in the eye, his own void of any emotion.  
  
‘Richie.’ He said. ‘You want to sled down a muddy hill in the heaviest of rain falls that have ever hit Derry. That’s hardly worth of any ode.’  
  
Not to mention, he is going to break a bone or two. This was some huge, steep hill. Stan didn’t even know how Richie managed to find this place. Did he just walk down the forest in boredom and thought how am I going to ruin myself? And God presented him this?

‘Stan. Stan, the man.’ Richie shook his head. ‘You are still too young to get this.’  
  
‘You are younger than me, Richie.’ Richie ignored him and just grabbed onto the sled.  
  
‘Just watch me. You will be head over heels once I have added this to my list of great accomplishments.’  
  
Stan weighed his options. He could drag Richie back and prevent him from breaking his neck. Or he could let Richie do this, let him feel the consequences of his stupidity and tell him ‘I told you so.’ later.  
The latter, Stan thought. Definitely the latter.

‘Fine. Have it your way.’ Stan stepped back as he watched Richie set the sled into the right position and get on it. Richie saluted at him. ‘See you on the other side.’  
  
With that he skidded off and Stan would never forget what happened then. It all happened in a flash.  
Stan wasn’t sure if it was the sled, the muddy hill or the heavy rain. But Richie sled down at an incredible speed and Stanley would never admit it but he was actually impressed. Half-way through the ride the boy lost his balance thought. He tried to get a hold of the ground but the mud just slipped through his fingers. Entangled with the sled, he rolled down the rest of the hill, screaming. Stan gaped at the sight. ‘Oh lord.’  
  
All of a sudden Richie came to a halt when he crashed into the puddle of water that pooled around the hill. He lied there, face down. Stan could only stare, disbelief apparent on his face.  
  
‘Are you alright?’ Stan shouted. Richie didn’t move. Stan frowned. ‘Richie, are you alright?’  
  
Richie slowly raised his arm, still lying in the puddle. ‘Just peachy.’  
  
Stan laughed.  
  
‘This isn’t funny, Staniel. I am in serious pain here.’ Richie whined as he slowly turned onto his back. His glasses sat askew on his muddied, reddened face.  
  
Stan snickered as he descended the hill. ‘You can’t tell me I haven’t told you so, Tozier.’

* * *

Richie Tozier constantly came up with the stupidest of ideas. On times they were harmless, just silly. Other times they were downright insane and dangerous. However, when Richie Tozier set his mind on something, he would stop at nothing to get it. Even if it meant he had to risk his life.  
  
Eventually, Stan didn’t even fight it anymore. Richie listened to no one anyways so why bother, Stan thought. All Stan could do was follow his friend to his senseless adventures and watch over him. It’s been years since they have known each other, a decade even, and until this day, despite all his shenanigans, Richie always managed to pull through somehow.

So to hear that _that_ Richie Tozier was supposed to be gone now… It seemed ridiculous. It was just absurd.

“That can’t be right, mom.” Stan said, shaking his head. “You are wrong. Richie isn’t dead.”

“Sweetie-”  
  
“No, mom.”  Stan cut her off, agitated. “You are wrong. Richie is not dead. He can’t be dead. Mom-”  
  
His mother swiftly pulled him into a tight hug, holding him close. He was shaking. The boy didn’t even notice that tears ran down his face. All he did was telling his mother that she was wrong over and over again.

Richie was not dead.  
He couldn’t be.  
Could he?

* * *

Stan lied awake in his bed that night. He stared up at his ceiling. His eyes were rimmed by a deep red shade, the tears having dried up hours ago. He noticed his phone going off several times, the display occasionally lighting up. The boy couldn’t find it in him to check on his messages right now though. He could imagine what texts he received.  
  
He was sure it was the others, wanting to talk about Richie. But Stan didn’t want to talk about Richie. Not right now. Not ever.

The curly-haired boy turned to his side, towards the wall, away from the phone that lied on the nightstand.

Richie Tozier was dead.

His best friend was dead.


	3. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write this much earlier but the holidays kept me busy and there were two plays that had to be set up last weekend. To compensate for the delay I wrote a 5.5k chapter.
> 
> I hope everyone has a great new year!
> 
> tw: mention of suicide!

When Bill Denbrough heard about Richie Tozier’s passing, he was at his aunt’s house. The children and adolescents sat around a table in the basement, playing cards. They were in the middle of playing a round of Old Maid when his mother suddenly rushed down the stairs, her face ashen. She clutched her phone in her hand.  
  
“Bill.” She called. The boy looked up from his cards.  
  
“Yes, mom?” Everyone at the table looked up as well, turning their heads back and forth between mother and son.  
  
“We are going home.” She declared. “Get your jackets. We are leaving.”  
  
Bill was confused. They haven’t even had dinner yet but they were already leaving? Just what happened in the half an hour since Bill and Georgie followed their cousins down the stairs?  
  
He turned to his brother whose confused face mirrored his own. They just shrugged at each other as they slowly got up, laying down their cards. They rushed out behind their mother, mumbling an apology and a goodbye to their relatives as they passed them.  
  
Bill didn’t know what happened. He isn’t going to complain though. If it gets him out of annoying family functions, then so be it.  
  
“Go wait in the car.” His mother told him as soon as they reached the front door. “I am going to talk to your aunt real quick, then we will leave.” Bill and Georgie just nodded.

They walked down the stairs on the front porch, whispering to each other.  
  
“Why are we going home, Billy?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Bill shrugged. He opened the door to the backseats of the car and ushered Georgie inside before following after him. Their father was already sitting behind the steering wheel.

“Dad, what’s wrong? Why are we leaving?” His father looked back at him through the rearview, a frown on his face.  
  
“Something happened.” He replied, his gaze meeting Bill’s through the mirror. “Something bad.”  
  
Now Bill began to frown as well. All of a sudden he could hear the sirens he heard earlier that morning again. The siren was still vividly ringing in his ears even though the ambulance didn’t even pass by his neighborhood. But in a town as boring as Derry where nothing ever happened, especially on the morning of a holiday such as Christmas, it would be difficult not to hear a siren sounding from the other side of the town. Unless you are of bad hearing, Bill guessed.  
  
He suddenly felt ill, remembering it. He wanted to throw up.  
  
“What happened?” Georgie asked in Bill’s stead. He leaned forward, the worry written all over his face.  
  
“It’s Bill’s friend.” His dad answered. “The one with the glasses… Richie?”  
The sirens kept ringing through Bill’s ears. The nausea worsened.  
  
“I am sorry, Bill.”

* * *

The drive was spent in silence. Bill stared out of the window, watching the scenery pass by in a flash. Georgie was crying softly right next to him. Usually when his little brother was upset Bill would hurry to his side and comfort him. He would drop everything and anything for his brother. Not this time though.  
  
In this very moment, Bill Denbrough didn’t put his beloved brother first. All Bill did right now was shutting his mind off.  
  
In this very moment, there was only emptiness inside of Bill.

* * *

When they arrived at their house, Bill wordlessly exited the car and walked up the porch. He heard his mother calling after him but he didn’t care. He just entered the house and went up to his room, shutting the door behind him. Bill sat down on his bed, his back straightened, his eyes looking straight ahead. He didn’t even look at anything in particular. He just stared ahead.

Richie Tozier was dead.

Bill tried calling Stan. He called him several times but the other didn’t take his calls. So he texted him. Asking him if he had heard about it. If he was alright. If he wanted to talk.

He also tried reaching Beverly. Ben. Mike. Eddie. But no one answered.

Bill threw his phone aside as he lied down on his bed. He slowly drifted off and eventually, he fell asleep.

* * *

The sun was already high up in the sky when Stanley got up from his bed to throw his jacket on. He didn’t bother changing out of the clothes he wore the day before. It’s not like he was wearing pajamas. Not that he would have cared either way right now. He just walked out of the house, past his mother who was on her way to the kitchen. Before she could stop him to ask where he was going, Stan slammed the front door behind him, the boy himself wincing at the sound of the door crushing into the threshold.

Stan took his bike and just rode into town. He tried to get his mind off. He didn’t want to think about Richie. Or anything. But life just didn’t work that way.  
  
Richie Tozier’s death was all everyone talked about. Stan shouldn’t have been surprised. Derry was small. News travelled fast.

He felt people staring at him as he passed them. They pointed at him, whispering to one another. Stanley ignored it and just kept pedaling.

* * *

Once he reached Bassey Park he just threw his bike aside and walked down the narrow path. He let his legs take him to a bench, hidden away behind a large oak tree. It was the bench where the Losers’ Club occasionally hung out at when it was too cold to play at the Barrens or the quarry.

Stanley Uris threw himself down onto the wooden, green bench. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, just listening to the rustling of the leaves as the wind blew past them. He listened to the steps of people passing by. He tried drowning out their voices but he couldn’t. At the mention of his best friend’s names, his ears couldn’t help but perk up.

“Did you hear about the Tozier boy?”  
  
“Oh yeah. Poor boy. He was such a sweet one.” Stan wanted to snort at that. He guessed that was just the way it was with people. They all suddenly spoke highly of someone the moment they pass. He wondered why people couldn’t show such kindness to the living.

Richie was a known troublemaker. No one in this town particularly liked him for several reasons.

He was loud. He talked without an end in sight. He was constantly up to no good. He was dirty. Unkempt. Neglected.  
  
In a town as small Derry one person’s business was everyone’s business. Even more so when your family had such a bad reputation like the Tozier family did. Alcoholic parents and a good for nothing son. This town did not possess the kindness to treat that little family well. The town didn’t even have a tiny bit of love to spare for the young boy who shouldn’t have been faulted for the family he was born into.

But once he was gone, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was suddenly a ‘sweet boy’. Stan scowled at this town’s hypocrisy. Derry is such a farce, Stan thought.

“With those parents I am not surprised.” The conversation continued. “Those two are terrible, terrible people. They should have taken the poor kid away long time ago. I mean, have you seen the kid? He was always littered in bruises and he was so, so skinny. I am sure they didn’t even feed him.”

The woman’s voice was shrill. Stan winced. She sounded horrible.

“With a family like that I am not surprised that he killed himself.”

* * *

It was a few minutes past 11 when Bill Denbrough woke the next morning. Daylight was shining through his see-through curtains. He couldn’t remember having pulled them close. His mother must have come into his room after he fell asleep, Bill assumed. He turned away from the light and pulled the blanket over his head.  
  
He didn’t want to get up today. He drifted back into sleep.

* * *

Barely an hour has passed when Bill awoke once more. It was already past noon.

Yesterday was Christmas, he thought. Yesterday was the day Richie died.

He should have been sad. Richie was his friend. They had known each other for years and were always together. They shared a past and a present and yet Bill didn’t cry. He didn’t even feel an ounce of sadness.

There was only emptiness.

* * *

It was 4:21 in the afternoon when Bill received a text from Stanley Uris.

_Come to the quarry._

* * *

When Bill walked down the stairs, he heard his mother calling.

“Bill?” She asked. “Is that you, Bill?” Shortly after, she appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

“What’s going on? Why are you dressed?”  
  
“I am going to meet Stan.”

She tilted her head, worry written all over her face. “Should I drive you to his place?”  
  
“It’s fine, mom.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“It’s fine.” Bill snapped. His mother was taken aback, shocked. Her son never talked back like that. He was kind. The kindest boy she had ever known. Even when he was angry, he never raised his voice like that. He would always be considerate of the person in front of him, hesitant of unintentionally hurting them.

“I'm leaving.“ Bill walked right past her and left the house, without looking back even when his mother called after him.

* * *

Once Bill arrived at the quarry, he threw his bike aside and walked over to his friend who was already sitting at the cliff, his legs pulled up to his chest. Stan didn’t even notice him.

Bill sat down beside him. Neither of the boys said anything.

Minutes passed before Bill decided to break the silence. “Are you alright?”

Stan laughed. It was a breathy laugh, void of any joy.

“Just peachy.” Stan replied sarcastically. “What do you think, Big Bill? Richie is dead. There is no way I would be alright.”

Bill just nodded.

“Did you know?” Stan continued, the spite in his usually gentle voice never dissipating. “Richie has become the talk of the town. Everyone is talking about him as if they knew him so well. They all pity him. They actually feel sorry for him.”

Stan turned his head to the side, facing Bill. “Not once has this town ever given a shit about Richie and now that he is gone, they act like he was everyone’s darling? You should have heard what they said, Bill. They said he was sweet. Sweet! What a joke. Anyone who knew Richie Tozier would know he was anything but that.”

Stan shook his head and turned away again. “That wasn’t even the worst of it. Now that he is gone, they think it’s an excuse to spread all his business around town. Act as if they suddenly cared about his well-being.”  
  
Stan snorted. “They didn’t know shit.” Bill took a glance at Stan. His friend was livid.

Bill thought he should have felt the same burning anger inside him. But he didn’t. He still felt nothing.

A few minutes passed and none of them uttered another word. They just kept looking ahead, watching the scenery in front of them as the cold wind blew past them. Bill shivered.

He turned back to Stanley and a small gasp escaped him. Stan’s eyes were glossy. His was biting on his quivering lips. Stan held his tears back. He didn’t want to cry. But he did anyways.

“You know what else they said?” His voice shook. It made Bill’s heart sting. “They claim Richie killed himself.”

Stan turned back to Bill, the tears rolling down his cheeks. “They say he jumped down the bridge, committing suicide.”

* * *

Stanley Uris and Richie Tozier had been friends since they were toddlers.

When they first met each other, they could barely speak. They hadn’t learned it yet. All they did was babble but they still understood each other.

They learned how to speak together. How to read. How to write. How to put on your clothes by yourself. How to walk. How to ride a bike. They learned everything together. That’s just how it was when you have been attached at the hip since early childhood.

They have been so used to each other that they couldn’t imagine a world without the other.

So when one day Richie Tozier suggested they look for colleges together, Stanley wasn’t surprised.

“UCLA?” Richie and Stan sat back to back on Stan’s bed. Stan was reading a book. Richie was playing on his phone.

“Yeah.” Richie said. “I know you wanted to go to New York but you know, I looked it up. Properly, I swear. It’s a fine school. It would be perfect for us.”

Stan gave it a thought. Richie was lying, Stan could tell. This wasn’t about UCLA being a good university. Stan was sure his friend didn’t actually care where he was going as long as it was as far away from Derry as possible. Richie would have even gone to a community college out in the boonies, if he had to. But he knew Stan wanted more than that, aimed for something better, so he looked for prestigious colleges they could both enroll in. And Stan knew he was right because they knew each other like the back of their hand.

“We could look for a room together, you know? Live with each other? We could save the living costs, I mean, tuition will be a bitch to pay so the more we can save the better, right? So we should definitely attend the same university. Also-“

Stan laughed. Tuition was definitely not something for Richie to worry about. There was no way he would not be eligible for a scholarship with his academic abilities.

“Sure.” Stan interrupted. “I think that’s cool.”  
  
Richie suddenly turned around, knocking Stan to the side with his shoulder. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Stan sat back up, closing his book. “UCLA is also a good place. But it shouldn’t be our only choice. We need alternatives, too but it can be our first choice.”  
  
Richie looked at him with wide eyes. Stan almost laughed. Richie still used the glasses from his childhood, never bothering to buy new ones with thinner lenses or just switch to contact lenses. And while Stan did get used to the sight of seeing Richie’s eyes magnified all the time, it was still comical when his eyes would become so much bigger when they widened.

“We should stick together.” Stan said, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Wasn’t that the plan all along? Where you go, I will follow.”

For a brief moment, the bespectacled boy was astonished. He looked at Stan as if he was Santa Claus who was there to bring him a present on Christmas Day. Richie smiled at him, all teeth.

“Stanley! Stan, the man.” He grabbed onto the curly-haired boy’s face and pulled him close. “I knew you loved me.”

He gave Stan a wet smooch on his cheek, making the boy scowl. “You are disgusting, Tozier, get off me!”

Stanley pushed Richie off him as he wiped his face, making his friend fall off the bed. Richie just laughed, the sound melodic and beautiful to Stan’s ears. Not that he would ever admit to that.

Stanley Uris and Richie Tozier had known each other for over a decade. And they promised on staying with the other for many more years to come. That was just the plan.  
That’s how it was supposed to be.

So Stanley Uris was sure that Richie Tozier would never take his own life, not even when the whole world was against him.

He was certain of that as he knew Richie better than anyone else.

* * *

“Richie would never do that.” Stan sobbed. “He would never kill himself.”

Bill wanted to agree. He wanted to. But he couldn’t.

“How can you be so sure?” Bill asked, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.

“What?” Stan sniffed as he pulled his jacket's sleeve over his hand to rub at his eyes. The wind blew through the area, throwing their hair in disarray. It made Bill’s soft almost silent tone impossible for Stan to hear. Bill chewed on his lip.

“How can you be so sure?” He repeated, hesitantly. “That he didn’t kill himself, that is.”

Bill thought back of the past years he has known Richie Tozier.

The bespectacled loudmouth always had a difficult life, having been born into a family that couldn’t care for him properly. There was no one in Derry that didn’t know that. Everyone knew about it but everyone glossed over it. It was no one’s business until something serious happened. But the townspeople of Derry didn’t seem to consider it a serious issue even when a young Richie Tozier occasionally showed up to school covered in bruises. The teachers turned the other way, not listening when Richie complained about not feeling well enough to partake in class. The other parents just shook their heads at the sight of the bruises, gossiping about the Tozier family when they thought he couldn’t hear.

This town had failed him. Yet, for all the shit life and especially Derry had thrown at him, Richie Tozier was still a good, caring person. He stood in for his friends, looked out for the ones who couldn't defend themselves. It didn’t even matter if they once pointed their fingers at him, taunting him. Richie didn’t care about that.

Bill Denbrough was a good person, too. Everyone said so. He was sweet, kind and lovely. He was the prime example of an honor student so people said. Just like Richie he would stand in for the ones weaker than him. But while Bill was recognized as the angel he was, all Richie was known for was that he was a nuisance. The people of Derry didn’t look beyond that façade. They didn’t see the goodness that Richie emitted.

Secretly, Bill admired Richie. Richie was loud. He was noisy and couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was almost as blind as a bat. He was lanky and skinny, never seeming to know what to do with his limbs. The teachers had an eye on him. The bullies had it out for him. His parents neglected him. Richie Tozier was not loved.

Just like his friend, Bill also had a fair share of unfairness in his life. In earlier days when his stutter would make it impossible to hold proper conversations on times, his peers would just ignore him. He would be shoved around for being different. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t help it, if the stutter was something he just couldn’t erase with a snip of his fingers. But the boy was loved. His family was warm. They loved and supported him, never failing to show their affection for the oldest Denbrough child. When he was upset or struggling, they would be there for him.

Bill could never understand the pain Richie felt. That’s why he admired Richie all the more. Despite all his struggles, Richie always faced life with a wide smile. Whenever life tripped him up, he would stand right back up. He would stand tall and scream a loud ‘Fuck you’ at it.

Richie was strong. He was so much stronger than Bill could ever be, Bill believed. And yet...

“What are you trying to say?” Stan glared at him. His face was red from when he rubbed his eyes, trying to rid of the tears.

Bill shrugged, listlessly, facing the lake below them. “Richie never had an easy life and maybe it got all too much in the end, you know.”

The curly-haired boy stared at his friend’s profile, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

Bill didn’t answer. Stan scoffed. “You think Richie wouldn’t have told me if he couldn’t handle it anymore? You think I wouldn’t have been there for him? I know him better than any of you and I know for certain that Richie would have never gone ahead and take his own life.” Stan said, raising his voice. “He wanted to get out of here. _We_ wanted to get out of here. We had plans, we made a promise. He would have never left me behind like this.”

“You may have been his best friend but you can’t know everything.” Bill replied, grimacing at his agitated friend. “And you weren’t the only one who lost him. I was his friend, too.”

The curly-haired boy laughed but there was no hint of joy in it. It was spiteful. Venomous.

“For all you claim you were his friend I haven’t seen you around him a lot if at all. Do tell me, Big Bill, when was the last time you talked to Richie? Like actually talked to him?” Stan spat. Bill widened his eyes, taken aback. He was at a loss for words. Stan huffed in response. “You haven’t been much of a friend to him in years so don’t act like you know him now.”

Abruptly, Stan stood up and left in a hurry. Bill looked after him, hurt.

* * *

If Sharon Denbrough hadn’t been concerned enough when her son left the house earlier in the afternoon, by the time he returned shortly after sunset, she would definitely have been then.

When she let her son into the house he didn’t even acknowledge her. He didn’t greet her, didn’t even look at her. But what bothered Sharon the most was her son’s face.

His face was ashen. His eyes were widened, his eyebrows pulled together. He was shocked out of his shell.

“Bill” She said. “Bill!” She shook him out of his trance when he didn’t react. Then he finally looked at her, surprised.

“Mom?” He looked around in confusion. “I am home?” Bill was shaken and it broke Sharon’s heart.

“What’s wrong, honey?” She pulled him into a hug, held him close. She stroked his hair, trying to comfort him. “What happened?”

Her son didn’t reply. He just stared ahead, confused. He hadn’t even noticed he walked home. The last thing he remembered was that Stan shouted at him, told him he was a terrible friend to Richie. But he wasn’t a terrible friend.

Was he?

“Mom” He said. “When was the last time Richie came over?”

“Hm?” Sharon thought about it. “I don’t remember, darling. It must have been a while.”

Bill squinted. That was strange. The Denbrough house was the Losers’ Club official hangout. They spent the majority of their free time there. During the cold seasons his friends basically lived at his house. That his mother didn’t remember the last time Richie visited all too well, made him wonder.

Since Stan has left him at the quarry all of a sudden, the boy kept trying to remember the last time he actually talked to Richie, his supposedly close friend, but it just didn’t come to him.

He excused himself, said he wasn’t feeling too well and went up the staircase. Once Bill reached his room, he closed the door behind him and walked over to his shelf. He pulled out an unnamed photobook. It was bound in brown leather and was pretty worn down. It contained pictures of his childhood. He flipped it open, went through the pages of his early childhood until he reached the one where he was first photographed with Richie Tozier. It was a class picture, taken seven years ago.

Bill chuckled at the picture. Richie had hardly changed in the years since the photo has been taken. He still had those dark brown unkempt locks that made young Bill think of a bird nest. His glasses were also the same, making his eyes look so much bigger than they actually were. Even back then he was all gangly limbs. His fashion sense was hideous. He wondered when Richie started changing his horribly tacky Hawaiian shirts for fairly more decent flannel shirts. Or when he started wearing darker colors. Or accessories that resembled Beverly’s so much. Bill wondered if they actually were Beverly’s. What changed the most about Richie’s appearance apart from his growth though were probably his huge front teeth which earned him the nickname ‘Bucky Beavers’. In the last few years, Richie managed to grow into them, becoming quite the handsome guy, Bill admitted.

Back then he wasn’t friends with Richie yet. They shared homeroom and a few classes but while Bill always took a seat in the front, Richie always went for a seat in the far back. They never had the opportunity to talk or even acknowledge each other. Before they turned eleven Bill wasn’t even sure if they had talked at least once.

But when Stuttering Bill attracted the attention of Henry Bowers, the local school bully, he ended up at Richie’s side, at the Losers’ Club side, whether he wanted to or not. The children were always rallied together by Henry Bowers and his friends before they pushed them around, tormented them.

Birds of a feather flocked together after all. In this particular case the Losers’ bonded over their shared frustration with the Bowers’ gang and were inseparable from the on.  
  
“Until now, that is.” Bill mumbled before shaking that thought off. He kept flipping through the book, looking over his smiling face as he was with either his family or his friends. Soon enough he noticed that something was off as he looked over the pictures. At some point, from the time they were 13, Richie appeared less and less until he didn’t appear at Bill’s side at all. In the past year there was only one picture he has taken with Richie in it but it wasn’t one of the joyful ones where the Losers’ posed in front of the camera, laughing with all their might. In that one picture, Bill and the Losers’ sat at the lunch table at high school. None of them posed in the picture. None of them noticed the camera. It was a shot Beverly took for an art project, the theme being one’s everyday life. She handed the shots she didn’t include in her project to the Losers as most of the pictures are of themselves. Beverly spent the majority of her day with them after all but she didn’t need all pictures. At that time Bill Denbrough did not give it much of a thought when he took the picture from the redhead. To him, it just seemed like another group shot of the Losers, one of the many he already had.  
  
But as Bill looked at the photograph, the boy finally realized what Stanley meant.

_You haven’t been much of a friend to him_

In that picture Bill was animatedly gesturing as he told the others a story with a bright smile. Richie sat at his side at the far corner of the table, his face clearly glum as he had his head propped up on his elbow. Bill himself sat with his back to Richie, completely turned to his other friends who were intently listening to his every word, sitting on his other side. Richie was clearly cut off from the group. He was excluded from this moment. Bill himself had done that.

They boy went back a few pages, trying to remember the reason. He tried to find out how things turned out that way.

The further he went back in the book the more he noticed how with every passing year, month and day the distance between Richie and him grew. And finally, he found it. A picture of his 14th summer. It was a picture taken on the first day of summer vacation. The Losers had gathered in front of Bill’s house, sitting on the stairs on the front porch. Georgie sat in the center of the group, his lips pulled into a big smile, showing his teeth.

That was the summer Georgie Denbrough disappeared.

Bill still remembered the terror he felt when he couldn't find his brother. He was frantic. In panic. The Losers had looked for the youngest Denbrough all over the place. Just a few hours prior, barely an hour after the picture was taken, the Losers took Georgie out to the Barrens to play. Bill was reluctant about taking Georgie there, he was still so small after all. But Georgie whined until Bill complied. Until this day Bill regretted that. He still wished he would have been stricter on his brother.

The day he took Georgie to the Barrens, there was a sudden rainfall. They had been playing in the water for one moment and suddenly the water was raining down on them. The Losers rushed out and back into the woods, wanting to get back on the road to get their bikes. The rainfall was heavy, it was loud. They didn’t hear each other, they almost lost sight of each other but eventually they got out of the woods safely and got ahold of their bikes.

Bill turned around, Georgie’s name on his lips when he noticed he wasn’t there. He looked at the others who were ready to go but his brother wasn’t with any of them either.

“Where’s Juh-ju-Georgie?” He asked. “Where is m-m-my b-b-brother?”

The Losers turned to him and looked around. Everyone paled as they finally realized what happened.

“Shit, we lost him.” Richie exclaimed before he threw his bike on the ground and rushed into the forest, the others following after him. They all separated, calling Georgie’s name. Each of them was soaked and freezing but they didn’t give up. They walked back the way they came from and searched the area surrounding it but nothing. There wasn’t a trace of the youngest Denbrough brother.

It’s been hours since they started looking for him and it was already getting dark.

“We got to get back.” Stan shouted, the rainfall still drowning out the sounds. “It’s already late. It's dark. We can’t do anything like this.”

Eddie nodded in agreement. “Let’s go get help.”

But Big Bill Denbrough didn’t want to hear any of that. He wanted to stay behind. He wanted to keep looking even if he had to do so by himself. What if something bad had happened to his little brother? Georgie was so small. He needed Bill.

“You are being crazy.” Richie told him, shouting. “Georgie is a smart kid, he can help himself.”

“T-The hell a-a-are y-you s-saying, T-T-Tozier.” The agitation worsened Bill’s stutter.

“I am saying we gotta leave or one of us is gonna collapse soon.” Richie said, gesturing at the group. Bill looked at his friends. They looked back at him, their faces drained of color. They were shaking, freezing. They were exhausted.

“For all we know he could be dead already.” Richie added, thinking out loud. Stan who stood next to him turned to the loudmouth, his eyes widened in shock. He turned to Bill, hoping the rain drowned out that last sentence but the boy was already fuming, his glare fixed onto Richie. Stan wanted to push Richie out of the way, wanted to step in but Bill was quicker, lunging out at the bespectacled boy, knocking his glasses off. Richie fell back onto the ground.

“What the hell, Denbrough?!” Richie screamed, holding his reddened cheek. “The fuck you think you are doing?”

“J-just b-because n-no o-o-one h-has e-ever g-g-given a shit a-about you” Bill spat, trying to lung out again but Stan and Mike held him back. “I-it d-doesn’t g-g-give you the r-r-right to b-be s-s-such an asshole.”

Richie scowled and got up. “Fine. See if I care.” He walked away, ignoring the calls of his friends.

* * *

Shortly after Richie left, the others returned to the Denbrough house, telling Bill’s parents what happened who in turn notified the police. Bill fixed his eyes on the clock that hung in his living room, counting every single second. It was past midnight when the police rang the doorbell with good news. One of the officers at the door, carried a sleeping Georgie Denbrough in his arms.

Georgie was covered in mud stains when he returned. Scratches littered his arms and legs. Apparently after he got lost he wandered the woods in tears and ended up stumbling down a sand hill. It was pretty steep but eventually he managed to get back up again and found his way right into the arms of a police man. Georgie was so relieved he cried until he fell asleep.

After that day things have never been quite the same between Richie and Bill.

Bill couldn’t forgive Richie. Richie never apologized either. They were both too stubborn to approach the other. As time has passed they started drifting apart without notice and soon enough they were mere acquaintances with a common set of friends. They still spent time with each other but it was never just them. The both of them couldn't stand to be in the same room if another person wasn't around, the tension between them far too strong.

Dropping the book, Bill tried to remember the last conversation he had with Richie. A conversation that went beyond regular morning greetings or a forced ‘What’s up’. When was the last time he has spoken to Richie? Bill leaned back against his bed, trying to recall the last meaningful conversation they had but all that came to his mind were images of that day in the woods when he told Richie that no one gave a shit about him. When he called him an asshole.

What Richie said back then was terrible. It was hurtful. But so were Bill’s words. They didn’t talk to each other like that. They were supposed to have each other's back, no matter what. And yet that happened. In the years that had passed since the summer he was 13, Bill could never find himself to look at Richie the same way again. Now Bill realized that it must have been the same for Richie.

They had both hurt each other. And they have never tried to mend things. After that one summer day Bill and Richie just gave up on each other, throwing away a close bond neither of their younger selves would have exchanged for anything else in the world back then.

It had been one day since Richie Tozier had passed away.  
  
But in this moment, Bill realized that he had already lost Richie a long, long time ago.

**Author's Note:**

> I have not written anything in four years so feedback would be welcomed!
> 
> twitter @uravitea  
> tumblr @traumseher


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